I have a car. I have a job. I have an identity. But when something in your life gets taken away, you have to change your identity. You’re not really changing, but something around you, in you, about your persona shifts.
Industry. I’m just going to look that up:
technically productive enterprises in a particular field
Not very emotional, that definition. But I’m emotional right now. Because when you sit at a desk or a counter all day and tick like a clock or go ‘ooo ooo’ like a monkey, you hope that someone likes the monkey impression or nods their head to the ticking. You hope all that effort leads to something worthwhile. You hope your life isn’t meaningless. Someone does appreciate it, but industry just motors on impassively and says how grateful it is for what you’ve done and then kicks you as you walk out the door. Power-dressed-women and big-smoke-hardened men who honestly care about getting the company back on track (and get paid handsomely for the chance, I’m very sure) and then just shit on whoever they want to and give someone who’s given a decade or two to a company a sentence in an email to say how much they appreciate his service, backing it all up with ‘I’m tough, I make no apologies about that’. Sleep soundly, won’t you?
I was not in a good place tonight for playing at Camden as you can possibly imagine by that previous rant. As it turned out, it was a good night. Did Under Pressure for Tim and Charlotte, had a little chat with Lucy and Andy who were unbelievably sweet and self-titled themselves ‘Team Graeme’ – thanks guys. Swapped compliments with Zoe by hand signals! 
And I realised how much I will miss it there if I don’t get to play for a while. When I go there on a Monday night, everyone working there, everyone joining in, everyone watching just shares something wonderful that resonates round the room. It’s so special. It’s everything that industry can’t be.
